


Drunk And Naked

by flawedamythyst



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-07
Updated: 2006-03-07
Packaged: 2018-10-16 18:33:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10577091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: "You're drunk, naked and not thinking clearly."





	

He heard the drunken singing first. It sounded like someone was putting Celestina Warbeck through a mangle, whilst forcing her at wand point to sing her greatest hits.

"All by myself, I'm alone!  
No one by my side, since you're gone.  
I'm all alo-o-o-o-o-o-ne!"

There was a gurgling gulp, a loud sniff and a fumbling at the door. Fred heard keys fall to the ground and a swearword, followed by a frantic, "Ssssh!! Mustn't wake him!"

He sighed, put aside his book and went to open the door.

When he opened it, George was crawling on the pavement, trying to pick up his keys. He squinted up at Fred, who was surprised to see tears had stained George's face.

"You're not supposed to be awake," he said, confused. "You're not meant to see me like this."

Fred crouched and picked up George's keys. "I've seen you like this often enough before," he said, "only I'm usually in the same condition." He took his brother by the shoulders and pulled him up. George flopped on to him like a limp doll.

"You're so warm," he sighed, and nuzzled his cold face into Fred's neck. Fred froze for an instant, then half-carried, half-dragged George through the door. He kicked it shut behind them with difficulty, then deposited his load on the sofa.

"Did the date go badly then?" he said, starting to take his brother's shoes off.

"Date?" said George, muzzily. Now he was sitting down in the warm, he seemed to be practically comatose. Fred decided that he'd just take most of his clothes off, then put him to bed.

"Yeah, remember? You were going to meet a girl. Did she turn out to be a troll? Or a Malfoy?" When George had breezily announced that he was going on a date, just a few hours ago, Fred had been gutted. Normally they shared everything - how come he hadn't heard of this mysterious girl before?

"Oh," said George, slurring his words together, "that wazza lie. Couldn't let you know where I wazreally going."

Fred carried on calmly taking George's one remaining sock off - he seemed to have lost the other one somewhere. Inside his stomach had frozen (a lie? They never lied to each other! They always told each other everything, the complete truth) but he knew if he showed that, George would be jolted out of his sleepy stupor, and he might lose all chance of finding out what was going on.

"Where did you go then?"

"Went to get drunk."

Fred sat beside his brother on the sofa, and gently began to take his cloak off.

"Why?"

"Cos I'm losing you. You're going away, never going to be proper twins again. When Charlie went away, he and Bill were never as close after."

Fred's heart gave a weird jolt. "I'm only moving across the road, of course we'll be as close..."

"No, no we won't!" said George, his voice going shrill and opening his eyes. "How can we be as close when I won't know everything. I won't know what you're eating, when you're awake, when you're asleep. I won't know what you're wearing so I can match - it won't be the same at all." Tears began to trickle down his cheeks again and he gave a wet sniff.

"But," said Fred, slightly bewildered, "We discussed it, and you said it was time for us to be a bit more independent. You agreed."

"Course I did. Don't want to be the one holding you back. You wanna go, not gonna stop you. Even if it's tearing me apart."

Fred's heart broke a little. "But I'm only moving out because I thought that's what you wanted. I thought you wanted your own space."

George snorted, and then hiccuped as it went a little wrong. "I don't want to be alone." He took a deep breath and began to sing again. "All by myself, I'm alone!"

Fred hastily interrupted him. "Put your arms up so I can take your jumper off."

George stopped singing and obeyed. Fred pulled the jumper over George's head. His shirt came with it because some of the buttons seemed to be missing, but Fred decided not to mention it. George was trying to rearrange his hair so it wasn't falling in his eyes, but didn't seem to be having much luck.

"Ok," said Fred, "Let's put you to bed. We can talk about this in the morning."

George blinked at him. Fred smiled at his twin - there was something very cute and vulnerable about him in this state. Maybe he should stay sober when George was drunk more often. He helped him stand up and together they stumbled in to the bedroom, where George fell on to the bed with a crash.

"Ok, you should go to sleep now," said Fred, walking to the door.

"No!" said George. Fred paused. "You have to help me take my trousers off!"

Fred froze for an instant. "What?"

"I can't sleep with my trousers on. It'll be uncomfortable."

Fred wondered what evil deity was mocking him and walked back to the bed. He though very hard about icebergs and Antartica whilst undoing his brother's flies and peeling his trousers off. He put them on the floor and then turned back to the bed, to pull the covers over his brother. He stopped in surprise.

"George, why aren't you wearing any pants?"

George looked puzzled. He looked down. "Oh. I must have lost them in the alley. With that man."

Fred's soul froze. "What man?" he managed, through a dry throat.

"The one in the alley. He wasn't much like you, but I could pretend because he was ginger."

Fred couldn't move. "What?" he said, in a strangled whisper.

George frowned, then sat up. "Oh! Wasn't gonna tell you that!"

Fred rubbed his forehead. Maybe he'd never let George drink again. That could be good.

"I'm sorry, Freddy, please don't hate me."

"I don't hate you," said Fred, as tears began to well in George's eyes again. George beamed at him. "Look, you're naked, drunk, and not thinking correctly. Why don't you go to sleep?"

George grabbed him round the waist in a organ-crushing hug and said, "You're the bestest brother ever." He lay back violently and appeared to pass out.

Fred regarded him for a moment, then walked carefully out of the room, as if he was balancing a ton of bricks on his head. He headed for the alcohol cabinet - this definitely called for some Firewhisky. Lots of Firewhisky.

 

Fred woke slowly, pushing his way to consciousness through a haze of pain and thirst. He groaned and heard a slight movement nearby. He carefully opened his eyes. George was sitting nearby, regarding him solemnly and sipping a mug containing something that smelt like hangover cure. Fred focused on the potion and stretched out a hand for it. George handed him the cup and he sat up carefully, cradling it in both hands. He took a long gulp and felt the cool liquid trickle down his throat. As the potion began to work its magic, he realised that George was still staring at him. He met his gaze for a moment, then they both looked away.

“OK,” said George, “I remember enough to know why my head feels like an elephant sat on it, but when did you get drunk?”

The memories of last night began to flood back. Fred resisted the temptation to groan again.

“Exactly how much do you remember?”

George frowned, “Bits and pieces mainly. Was there...did I sing?”

“I think it was meant to be singing,” said Fred, downing the rest of the potion, “It was awful. I contemplated fratricide.”

“Well, that's the last thing I remember,” admitted George.

There was a rush of green flame followed by some choking and Ron stepped in to the room, closely followed by Harry.

“Here we are, all present and correct and ready to move heavy boxes,” said Ron.

“Excellent!” said Fred, “the only thing is, I'm not moving out anymore.”

He felt George's eyes flick to him for an instant before he looked away and put on his best 'I know all about this' face.

“What?” said Ron, looking confused. “I thought it was all arranged?”

“We changed our minds,” said Fred.

“It's a woman's prerogative, you know,” said George. Fred resisted the urge to smile gratefully at him.

Ron collapsed in to an armchair. “Well, I'm not going back home. I'll only be roped in to helping with all the wedding preparations. I spent four hours charming roses to grow up the banisters yesterday, then got told they were the wrong shade of pink. It's barking.”

Harry sat down as well. He had dark circles under his eyes and an only-half-there look. He didn't look like he'd been having much sleep between searching for Horcruxes. Fred thought that he could do with a day off.

“You should stay for lunch,” said George, one step ahead of his brother.

“We could show you some of our latest projects,” added Fred.

****

He showed Harry and Ron down to their workshop while George slipped ahead to tidy away some of their more volatile experiments. In order to show off their latest innovations properly, they decided to use Ron as a reluctant test subject.

“How do you decide who should test these things when Ron's not around?” asked Harry, watching Ron belch fire.

“We draw straws,” said George.

“We take turns,” said Fred at almost the same moment. They both paused a moment.

“We draw straws but,” started Fred.

“We take it in turns to rig it,” finished George, grabbing the antidote for Dragon Breath Mints and forcing it down Ron's throat whilst ducking bouts of flame.

Next, they managed to persuade Ron to try on a harmless looking pair of shoes.

“So,” said Harry, watching Ron tap dance helplessly round the lab, “Come up with anything for the Order?”

“A couple of things,” said Fred.

“They're harder to come up with than this stuff,” admitted George.

“Could somebody please get these things off my feet?” squealed Ron, as his feet sped up in to a blur.

Fred hit him with an Impedimenta Jinx, which slowed him down enough for George to wrestle the shoes off his feet.

“We need to come up with a better way of removing them,” said Fred, as George had a brief struggle with the shoes to put them back in their box.

“We keep the Order stuff locked away now,” said George, pushing his hair out of his face and pulling his wand out.

Fred walked over to an apparently blank section of wall, and set his wand against a certain point. George did the same slightly to his left.

“Gred,” said Fred.

“Forge,” said George.

The wall shimmered for a moment, then disappeared.

Behind them, there was a breathless cry as Ron sank exhaustedly in to a chair, only to have it disappear from beneath him.

Fred smirked as he stepped through the wall, feeling the cold wash as the Wards passed over him. He'd known that Ron would sit on the Shrinking Chair if he waited long enough.

Once inside their secret workroom and behind the sound-proof Wards, George wasted no time in interrogating Fred.

“Why aren't you moving out?” he asked, in a tense voice.

“You told me you didn't want me to,” said Fred, “And I didn't want to go.”

George looked away. “I told you that?” he said quietly. “I didn't meant to say that.”

“Well, you were very drunk, “ said Fred. “I'm glad you did though - it prevented us making a huge mistake. We'd have missed too much about each other's lives.” He hesitated, but only for a second. “For example, I might never have known of any of your back alley encounters with strange men.”

George froze for an instant, then sank wearily in to a chair.

“I didn't meant to mention that either,” he said. His eyes shot open and focused on Fred's face. “I didn't say anything else, did I?”

_"The one in the alley. He wasn't much like you, but I could pretend because he was ginger."_

Fred looked down in to his brother's eyes, which were a shade greener than his, and remembered how upset he'd been when Percy had left the family. He pictured what he'd be like if the twins were the ones who were ostracised. His mind showed him image after image of them alone, their business in ruins, people spitting on them in the street, calling them perverted, his mother's horrified anger, his father's resigned depression. He weighed that with the fulfilment of the dark desire he'd felt for so long, and which his brother had revealed last night.

He took a deep breath and forced a grin. “Only that you're secretly a girl, but I'd already guessed that,” he said. George visibly relaxed. He stood up and picked up some of their Candles of Glory.

“Bring some whistles and those masks,” he said, as he stepped back through the Wards.  
Fred took a deep breath, grabbed the items George had indicated and followed him back in to the other room, a fake grin already plastered on his face. He'd made the choice for them, now he just had to live with it.


End file.
